


Past the Threshold

by sevenfists



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Haunting, M/M, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27246295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenfists/pseuds/sevenfists
Summary: At the other tables, their teammates talked and ate, laughed, rubbed their eyes, yawned, sipped coffee, were alive. Everything was normal. It was a normal morning before practice. Sid was going to dinner with Geno that evening, and after that he’d probably get laid. Tomorrow they’d play the Jets. Everything was fine.“I hate fucking Winnipeg,” Sid said.Geno grinned. “Yes, same.”
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 31
Kudos: 143
Collections: Sid/Geno Spooky Fest 2020





	Past the Threshold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sequestering](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequestering/gifts).



“This place gives me the creeps,” Reeser said.

Sid glanced over. In the harsh fluorescent light of the elevator, Reeser’s face looked white as paper. “What do you mean?”

Reeser shrugged. His hands were deep in his pockets. “This hotel. I dunno. Bad vibes. After what happened to Rusty, I mean. Hard to believe we still stay here.”

“Who?” Sid asked, and then immediately felt like an asshole for forgetting. There had been so many teammates over the years, call-ups from Wilkes and short-timers who were traded again before Sid had a chance to get to know them, but that wasn’t an excuse. 

Reeser was staring at him. “Rusty? You know, uh. Bryan Rust? Won two Cups with you? Beard, cute dogs? What the fuck, Sid.”

“Right,” Sid said. He still didn’t have a clue who Reeser was talking about. “Sorry. Didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

He hadn’t. There had been a weird noise in his bathroom, like someone was banging on one of the pipes, over and over in the same steady rhythm. He’d gone in there a few times to investigate, but the noise had stopped each time he switched on the bathroom light. Maybe that was what Reeser meant about bad vibes.

The conference room where they ate team meals was as bright and noisy as ever. Sid put the conversation with Reeser out of his mind. Geno was sitting alone at a table in the corner, eating oatmeal and scrolling through his phone, and Sid’s stomach did a little happy sideways shimmy at the sight of Geno’s grumpy morning face. 

He filled his plate and joined Geno at the table, a casual two chairs away. “Hey.”

Geno didn’t look up from his phone, but his foot bumped Sid’s beneath the table, then again: not an accident. Sid grinned and cut into his omelet.

After a few minutes, Geno pushed his phone away and sat up straight. “What you doing tonight?”

“Some guy said he’d take me out for dinner,” Sid said.

Geno’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly toward a smile. “Yes, good. Dress up, look cute.”

“I always look cute,” Sid said.

“Hmm,” Geno said. He reached over and took a strawberry from Sid’s plate.

*

Sid mashed the button for the second floor, then hit it again for good measure. The doors slid closed and the elevator began to descend.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Reeser said.

In the harsh fluorescent overhead light, Reeser’s face looked white as paper. “What do you mean?”

Reeser shrugged. His hands were deep in his pockets. “This hotel. I mean. After Rusty… it’s fucked up they haven’t found somewhere else for us to stay.”

“Christ. Yeah.” He had forgotten, somehow, that this was that hotel, that it had happened here. “Fuck. Poor Rusty. I’ll talk to Jen.”

Reeser frowned at him. “Who’s Rusty?”

“You, uh…” Sid trailed off. He didn’t know what to say.

“Never mind,” Reeser said. The elevator doors slid open. “Breakfast time.” He walked off.

Sid filled his plate and sat down with Geno, a casual two chairs away. Geno’s foot bumped Sid’s beneath the table, then again. His hair was getting long enough to curl in the front. Sid liked it.

“Hey,” he said, when Geno finally looked up from his phone. “You remember what happened to Rusty?”

“Rusty,” Geno said slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah,” Sid said. “You know. Number 17.”

“Oh yeah, 17,” Geno said, nodding. “It’s fucked up, you know? It’s like, we just keep playing, like who cares if he’s dead now.”

Sid put down his fork. “He’s dead?”

Geno’s brow furrowed. “He’s… I think? He’s… Sid, why I don’t know?”

“I don’t know either,” Sid said. “Christ.”

They sat in silence. At the other tables, their teammates talked and ate, laughed, rubbed their eyes, yawned, sipped coffee, were alive. Everything was normal. It was a normal morning before practice. Sid was going to dinner with Geno that evening, and after that he’d probably get laid. Tomorrow they’d play the Jets. Everything was fine. 

“I hate fucking Winnipeg,” Sid said.

Geno grinned. “Yes, same.”

*

Sid woke up in the night to the sound of banging. He pulled a pillow over his head and tried to ignore it, but it kept going, deep and rhythmic. No way was he getting back to sleep with that going on.

Beside him, Geno sighed and turned over. Sid hoped he would wake up and they could turn on the lights and grouse about the noise together and call down to the front desk, but Geno just sighed again and went still. Usually he was the light sleeper and Sid was the log.

Sid slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Geno. The room was freezing. He eased open the bathroom door so carefully that it didn’t make a sound, not even a tiny creak. 

He stepped inside and immediately collided with someone coming out of the room.

Sid yelled wordlessly, stumbling backward, scared absolutely witless, his heartbeat hot and loud in his temples. 

The person turned on the bathroom light. It was Geno.

“What the fuck,” Sid said, hand pressed to his chest, trying not to fucking die of fright. “How did you get in there?”

“Huh?” Geno said, squinting and naked, sleep-creased, familiar. “I just have to piss, Sid.”

“But you were in the bed,” Sid said, turning, seeing that the bed was empty, that Geno wasn’t there. “You were asleep.”

“Sid.” Geno curled his hands around Sid’s shoulders. They felt hot against Sid’s cold skin. “You’re like, walk in sleep? Let’s go to bed.”

“I heard that banging again,” Sid said, but he didn’t hear it now.

“It’s dream,” Geno said firmly. “Let’s sleep.”

“Okay,” Sid said. He let Geno steer him back toward the bed.

*

Sid woke up in the night to the sound of banging. He couldn’t ignore it. He didn’t want to get up. The bed was cold. He should have asked Geno to stay the night, even though they tried not to, on the road. 

He got out of bed. The room was freezing. He opened the bathroom door and turned on the light.

There were two figures in the mirror: two people, two bodies.

Sid yelled out, scared witless. The adrenaline rush was so immediate that his ears rang. He whirled, staggering, terrified, but it was only Geno.

It was Geno. It was just Geno. 

“Why are you—G,” Sid said, his heart throbbing beneath the palm he pressed to his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” Geno said. He stepped in close and wrapped an arm around Sid’s shoulders, kissed Sid’s temple. “I hear you get up.”

“You heard—but you weren’t here.” Sid buried his face in Geno’s shoulder. “You went back to your own room.”

“No, I’m here all night.” Geno ran his hand along Sid’s back. “You have a dream. That’s all. Let’s go back to bed.”

*

Sid woke up in the night to the sound of banging. He sat up in bed and turned on the lamp. The bed beside him was empty; maybe Geno had gone back to his own room. He did that sometimes, when he was having trouble sleeping. Once he’d left Sid’s house in the middle of the night and Sid had been extremely confused and worried the next morning before he checked his phone and found Geno’s text message.

There was a door in the far wall that hadn’t been there when Sid went to sleep. He rubbed his face. He had probably just forgotten. The banging was coming from that direction. Who had the room next door? He couldn’t remember. They needed to stop making that noise, whatever it was. It was the middle of the night.

He got out of bed. The room was freezing. The knob of the strange door, when he touched it, was so cold it burned his hand. He turned the knob anyway and pushed the door open.

On the other side lay not a room but a carpeted hallway, brightly lit, not very long, with another door at the far end. The banging came from behind that far door.

Terror gripped Sid and stopped him in his tracks. He stood at the threshold, shivering, not sure if he was dreaming. He didn’t know where Geno was. Then he suddenly knew that Geno was behind the door. The thought came to him like it had been given: a foreign thought that didn’t originate in his own mind. Geno was at the end of that hallway.

“I can’t,” Sid whispered. There was no way he could walk down the hallway. His whole body rebelled against it, his kidneys, his skin. The hallway shouldn’t be there. Someone’s room was there. Rusty’s room, he remembered suddenly, only Rusty was dead. 

“G,” he called, and then called again, a little louder. The banging stopped for a few moments, then started again, in a slightly faster rhythm.

“Geno?” Sid called.

*

Geno slid up beside him and came to an abrupt, showy stop, spraying snow. He leaned on his stick. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Sid said. He felt like he hadn’t slept in a week, but otherwise he really was fine. As soon as they’d left the hotel before practice, the dark miasma hanging over him blew away like smoke. He could think clearly again. “Had some really weird dreams last night, that’s all.”

“Me too.” Geno scowled at the ice. “I don’t like that hotel. Every time we go, it’s weird dreams.”

“Yeah.” Sid watched the impromptu scrimmage that was going on, some of the younger guys goofing around before practice got started, Reeser and Rusty passing the puck back and forth and laughing. 

It was a normal morning. Everything was fine.

*

Geno leaned on his stick. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Sid said. He watched the impromptu scrimmage that was going on, Reeser and Turbo taking obnoxious trick shots on Jars. “Did we have this conversation before?”

“Huh?” Geno asked.

*

“This place gives me the creeps,” Reeser said.

The fluorescent lights in the elevator glared down like a cold sun. “Me too,” Sid said grimly.

*

Sid woke up in the night to the sound of banging. He pulled a pillow over his head and tried to ignore it. The bed was cold.

*

Geno leaned on his stick. “What’s wrong?”

“What happened to Rusty?” Sid asked.

Geno’s eyebrows went up. “Huh? He’s hurt?”

“He’s dead,” Sid said. “Isn’t he?”

Geno was really staring now. “What? Why you say? He’s fine. It’s joke, Sid?”

“Sorry,” Sid said. His mouth was dry as dust. “Bad joke.”

*

“What happened to Rusty?” Sid asked.

Geno dug his stick into the ice. “It’s joke? Why you ask me this? You know what happened.”

“I can’t remember,” Sid said. “G. Please. Something’s weird. Something’s happening to me.”

Down the ice, Jars blocked a shot and crowed victoriously. Geno watched Sid and said nothing. But Sid knew him now, knew every expression, and he knew Geno was worried and a little scared.

“Will you tell me?” Sid asked.

Geno shrugged and went back to digging at the ice. “They say it’s, like. They can’t figure out. Like it’s no reason, you know? But I think… I don’t know. He said he’s have weird dreams. He seemed tired. Maybe scared. Then our last morning, before we leave, he won’t wake up. Just dead.”

“I’m having weird dreams,” Sid said, with a feeling like a sinker hitting the water and dropping fast. “I keep—I think I’m in a time warp or something. I feel really fucked up.”

Geno sidled closer. “You need to talk to doctor,” he said urgently. “Sid. You make me worry, it’s bad. Please.” He gripped the hem of Sid’s jersey and tugged. “Don’t have dreams. Please.”

“I don’t think a doctor can help with this,” Sid said.

Geno tugged again. “Sid. You can’t die, okay? You can’t…” He trailed off and swallowed. “I can’t even think about.”

The pleading desperation stamped on his face squeezed at Sid’s heart. “I’ll be fine.” He brushed his glove against Geno’s. “I promise.”

* 

Sid woke up in the night to the sound of banging. There was a door in the far wall that hadn’t been there when he went to sleep.

The room was freezing.

He got out of bed. He turned the knob of the strange door and pushed it open. The hallway loomed before him, longer than it had been before. 

Geno was there at the other end of the hallway, waiting there for Sid.

Sid sucked in a deep breath. His stomach pitched queasily. He couldn’t, he couldn’t; but Geno was there. He had to get to Geno. 

If he was going to die, at least he would be with Geno.

He forced himself to lift his foot and take a single step into the hallway.

The strange door at the end slammed open and banged against the wall. The lights all cut out, even the light in Sid’s room. 

In the split second before everything went dark, he saw someone standing in the far doorway. He knew Geno, he knew the shape of Geno’s body, and whoever was standing there wasn’t Geno.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” he said, feeling all of his organs turn to cold lake water. He turned and lunged back into his room and slammed the door shut behind him. In the darkness, his hands shaking, his heart pounding, he fumbled around in the room until he found the light switch and turned it on.

The door was gone. His bed was just as he had left it, the covers pushed back and the pillow dented. 

“I’m dreaming,” he said aloud. “I was sleep-walking. Everything is fine.”

He turned on the lamp and got back in bed, and pulled the covers up to tuck beneath his arms. He lay there staring at the wall with the lights on. At some point morning came.

*

“I think this hotel is haunted,” he told Geno.

“Oh, hmm?” Geno said, too focused on his phone and his oatmeal to pay much attention to Sid’s words.

“Can we cancel our date tonight?” Sid asked. “Or I mean, not cancel it, but can we just stay in? Order room service. I want to spend the night with you.”

Geno looked up then. His smile chipped away at the dark fear encasing Sid’s guts. “Okay, let’s stay in.”

Sid took a short nap after practice. He was more tired than he could account for. Bad dreams. When he woke up, he brushed his teeth and got dressed and went down the hall to Geno’s room. Geno had the TV on and all the lamps and he was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie and looked so normal and safe and comforting. 

Sid let out a breath as he gazed up at Geno in the doorway. Everything would be fine as long as he was here with Geno. “Hey, G.”

Geno pulled him into the room and bent to kiss his cheek. “Hi. Let’s order food, okay? I’m hungry.”

Sid laughed. “Getting right to business, eh? Okay, that’s fine, I see where your priorities lie.”

Geno swatted his ass. “I take care of you later.”

He did, very thoroughly, after they ate and watched some TV. They showered together afterward and climbed back into bed naked and still damp, and Sid fell asleep with his head on Geno’s chest, listening to the steady sound of Geno’s heartbeat.

*

Sid woke up in the night to the sound of banging: the door banging open at the far end of the strange hallway.

Geno wasn’t in bed beside him. Geno had gotten up and walked down that hallway, and now he was in that room, the strange room Sid hadn’t yet been brave enough to enter.

He would have to do it now. He needed to find Geno. He would be brave enough to do it because he loved Geno, and he couldn’t leave Geno there alone.

He got out of bed. The room was freezing. He opened the door and stepped through. The lights went out. The other door banged open. Fear gripped Sid’s spine and shook him like a dog, but he took a step, and then another, and he walked down the entire hallway like that, in the darkness, more afraid than he had ever been.

Someone waited for him in the doorway. He could hear them breathing. It wasn’t Geno, but it spoke to him in Geno’s voice and said, in Geno’s familiar tone of love and welcome, “Hi, Sid.”

A light went on in the room. It _was_ Geno, standing there smiling at him, welcoming him into the room. The bed was rumpled and slept-in. The lamp on one nightstand had turned on, casting the room in a gentle yellow glow.

“Do we sleep here?” Sid asked.

Geno took his hand and squeezed gently. “Yes, Sid.”

*

Sid woke up. He was in his room, in his bed. Geno was beside him, curled on his side. Light leaked in beneath the blackout curtains. Morning had come.

Sid yawned and rolled over to check the clock. It was time to get going and get down to breakfast.

He stretched one leg beneath the covers to prod Geno. “Hey, sleepy. Let’s go.”

Geno didn’t respond. Sid sat up to nudge him more firmly. “Geno? We need to shake a leg. Bus leaves for the arena soon.”

Geno didn’t respond.

Sid rolled him onto his back, not afraid yet but aware the fear was there, waiting for him at the end of the hallway. “You awake? Come on, man. Time to get up.”

Geno’s eyes were closed. His face was slack.

“Geno,” Sid said, shaking him, shaking harder, finally touching one trembling hand to Geno’s cold cheek.

“Geno,” he whispered, “Geno, G, come on,” and again, knowing it was hopeless, knowing the warm core of his life had been hollowed out for good, “Geno.”

*

Eventually he got dressed and made some phone calls. The room filled with people. Jen tried to talk to him, but he was crying too hard and she gave up before long. He didn’t have anything useful to tell her anyway. He didn’t know what had happened. He didn’t know why he was still alive.

Amid the confusion and the loud clamor of voices, he slipped out the door and went down the hall to Geno’s room. To what had been Geno’s room. 

The room was quiet. The bed was still made. Wherever Geno had slept last night, it hadn’t been here.

Geno’s suitcase was open on the floor. His phone was in Sid’s pocket. A hoodie was draped over the end of the bed. Sid picked it up and pulled it on. It smelled like Geno. Sid wiped his face with the cuffs. He was still leaking hot tears.

There was a door in the wall that shouldn’t have been there. Sid opened it. At the other end lay another door, wide open. There were no banging sounds. No strange figure loomed in the doorway.

I’ve been having weird dreams, Sid had said, and Geno had said, Me too. 

*

In the harsh fluorescent light of the elevator, Reeser’s face looked white as paper. His hands were deep in his pockets. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“What do you mean?” Sid asked.

Reeser shrugged. “Fucked up we still stay here after what happened to Geno.”

“Yeah.” Inside his own pocket, Sid curled his fingers around Geno’s pendants: the rounded saint medal, the angular cross. “Fucked up.”


End file.
